Brief Encounters
by she-without-name
Summary: A late night stroll through the castle turns out to be more that what young professor Dumbledore bargained.


**Brief Encounters**

It came not as a surprise, but as an undeniably ironic realization: Albus Dumbledore was infatuated. Yes, it was silly and incredibly naïve, but that did not make it any less true. More often than not, he found himself wandering through the Hogwarts corridors after curfew (_even though he knew exactly where he wanted to be_). He often forgot he was a teacher now, so whenever he heard footsteps, his first reaction was to hide (_and he was damn good at it_). Thus, no one ever found out his dark, little secret (_though it barely classified as 'dark' in his opinion_).

However, this night was special. Exactly one year had passed since their first encounter (_he could not quite believe it himself_). It still amused him to remember the first time they met (_he most surely did not believe in coincidences_). Consumed by guilt and remorse on a sleepless night, Dumbledore had decided to take a stroll around the school. Before he knew it, the young wizard found himself on the seventh floor of the place. He was so absorbed in his own mind that he failed to notice the worried look that was sent his way (_his disheveled appearance from tossing and turning before declaring it a night was certainly a cause of concern_). However, he was not completely immune since upon hearing some weird noises, he wasted no time to draw his wand.

"Fear not, my dear friend, for I intend you no harm," a mysterious voice said.

Dumbledore could not place the exact location these words had come from, and that put him on edge.

"Young sir, I beg you to trust me. Now come and speak your ills-- You might find in me a courageous ally. Say the words and we shall find the culprit of your troubles or else perish bravely in the charge!"

It took Albus five seconds to finally realize where the words came from (_and shocked as he was he could not help but laugh at the turns of life_). Against his better judgment, Dumbledore threw caution through the window and told Sir Cadogan the tragic events that had happened over the past years. He was only careful to avoid mentioning any names, but his hearer did not seem to mind as he proudly declared that "all this must be suffered by those who profess the stern order of chivalry" (_it was not until 1945 that Dumbledore fully understood the unbearable truth of this statement, and these words stuck with him until the very end_)

Suddenly, visiting the North Tower became a habit, especially on those days in which he could not find the will or strength in himself to fulfill his mission. The encounters were brief: first, he would eagerly wait to be spotted (_after all, patience was one of his virtues_). A florid comment from his auditor would follow to which Albus would respond in an equally pompous manner. Sometimes, he would try to flare the poor devil, others, he would confide his latest fears and theories. Whatever the case, the outcome was always the same. He felt he could sympathize with this stranger: it was said that he was mad (_or rather misunderstood_); that he had a moronic sense of duty (_platonic, he would explain_); that he was ridiculous (_what was so wrong with being_ _unique, anyway?_), but all that Dumbledore could see was his pure and innocent intentions (_they were almost endearing_).

And so it had come to this day, the day in which he finally realized how far he was from his old self. He had grown, most definitively, and his love for the portrait had been a compass that guided him through some of the toughest times (_in a way, it had kept him from making the same old mistakes all over again_). And for that, he was most grateful. Albus liked to play with the idea that an epitomic bond united the two of them: It seemed like all his traits, values and faults were enhanced a tenfold in Sir Cadogan's persona (_from there on, The Picture of Dorian Gray would become his silent accomplice_).

Dumbledore often pondered on the ridiculous situation he was now immersed in. He sometimes wondered what Grindewald's reaction would be like if he ever found out (_very deep down he knew that was one of the reasons why he continued to participate in this satirical pantomime_). But the past was the past and now he was slowly learning to focus all his energy on his teaching, on learning, on understanding. He no longer sought power or greatness (_or_ _at least, he tried not to_). One of the things that the portrait had taught him was that he had lost himself in the big picture and forgot about the small details (_and it was those small details that both killed and saved him_). And even though he knew his situation was a peculiar one, Albus never regretted it (_he could not help but chuckle; Grindewald would hate it_).

**-**

**& reviews are always welcome  
**


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